Rise Of The Crow
by WalkerSmith
Summary: "What I want, is what's right." Stiles spoke lowly while taking another step forward. The gun in Chris's hand cocked but Stiles moved undeterred. "And who I am," Stiles stepped into the light, his scarred face revealed to Allison's father. "Is someone who can make it right." (MAJOR AU! Crow!Stiles) Set between 3A AND 3B except Kira arrived a little earlier.
**AN: So this is only a one shot that I may or may not continue in the future. This a set up for a story more than anything and if I did continue this, it would be in a crossover fic. Some of you will understand why it would be a crossover if you pay attention at what a character says near the end of this little piece.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Teen Wolf nor the mythology or anything of The Crow franchise. I also don't own any fictional locations or characters mentioned in this fic ;). (That's a little hint for ya!) I am only borrowing these characters for a little fun. The credit of these characters go to their respective creators etc.**

 **Rise Of The Crow.**

Light. That was all Stiles could see. Blinding, warm, and safe. He felt happy. The light faded and all he saw was the faces of his friends, smiling at him with their kind eyes. Surrounding them was a heavy fog, but Stiles didn't feel afraid. He felt like he belonged. Scott's red alpha wolf irises still kind despite their threatening glow. Allison's ruby smile was wide and complemented her fair skin. Scott was lucky when they were together.

 _Were, WERE, PAST TENSE._ _ALLISON WAS GONE. IS GONE._

Stiles shook his head with a heavy wince. The world was dark now. He could barely move. And then he was back with his friends again. Kira, he hadn't spoken her a whole lot but Scott was crazy about her, almost as much as he was when he first saw Allison. She was smiling at him, her head resting on Scott's shoulder. Issac was standing beside Allison, their hands interlocked between them. They were all dressed in fancy clothes. Allison was wearing her dress from her first formal in Beacon Hills, Scott was wearing his own suit from that night. Issac was dressed in a snazzy suit that Stiles assumed was from the formal as well due the others. Kira was wearing sleeveless purple dress that stopped just above her knees, and she wore black tights and converse sneakers. Stiles couldn't help but notice that people were missing.

He looked around but couldn't see his dad or Scott's mom anywhere. He couldn't even see Lydia. As he scanned his surroundings he spotted a lone figure behind his friends. Stiles squinted and tried to speak out but no sound left his lips. The figure was a woman, that much he could tell. The woman slowly walked forward, wearing a white dress and Stiles found himself being unable to move as her face came into view. The first thing he noticed were here eyes, a pair of eyes that were almost a perfect copy of his own.

"Mom?"

His mother smiled as she walked up to him, reaching out for an reuniting embrace. Stiles tried to step forward but found his feet unable to move. He looked down at his body and saw that he was wearing a fancy black suit similar to his friends, but unlike the others the suit was worn and dirty. He felt a painfull pulling sensation in his chest and soon his vision darkened, leaving him in a pitch black world.

...

The Beacon Hills cemetery was wet and foggy as the cold winter rain fell heavily into the earth between the gravestones. A particular gravestone was being uses as a perch by a black bird, a crow. It screeched as it tapped against the hard stone, leaving dents where it's beak had pecked. The soil of the grave began to loosen and large cracks appeared in the dirt. A pale hand burst out the ground and frantically took hold of the slippery mud, pulling and sliding until the top half of a young man with messy, almost spike up hair, emerged from the grave. The young man gasped deep breaths and violently coughed, the sounds echoing into the night. He thrashed and twisted in the wet soil and soon pulled his whole body free from the earth. The young man sagged in exhaustion and shivered for the cold before looking around in a daze. He sat up in a panic when he saw the grave and the name that was carved into the rock.

 **Here Lies Stiles Stillinski**

 **A great friend and son.**

 **Sadly taken from us.**

 **Died age 17**

 **2014**

"What...?" Stiles whispered before a blinding pain shot through his brain, causing him to yelp and bury his head in his hands as images flashed before his eyes. A older woman with blonde hair that brought up feelings of fear and pain. A group of three men that wore ski masks, one had a crossbow, another had a rifle with a scope of them and the last man held a machine gun. And they were pointing the weapons at him and his friends. He watched as one of them fired the crossbow bolt straight at him, the projectile piercing his shoulder. He gasped as pain erupted and suddenly he was back at the grave. Stiles shakily put hand to his right shoulder, still feeling a ghost of pain. He took of the muddy black suit jacket he was wearing ripped the shoulder part of the white shirt beneath. There was a small, silver looking mark where the bolt had hit him.

 _"Come here, wolf lover!"_

He flinched as more images ran wild in his mind. One of the ski masked men was in front of him now and he could make out a necklace of sharp canine teeth around his neck. _Werewolf teeth,_ The man unveiled a hunting knife from his leather brown coat, the metal flashing in the shadows. Stiles could only scream as the man began to carve his face, cutting two lines into his flesh, one line over both his eyes, starting at his forehead and ending just below his cheekbone. He blinked and once again he was back at the grave. Timidly he brought his hands up to his rain and tear soaked face, feeling the rough lines that the blade left in it's wake. He was scarred, marked. Like he was _prey_.

A squawk to his left brought him out of his quickly anger inducing thoughts. A crow was resting atop his grave, it's eyes never leaving his. A strange feeling flowed through him and then it was like he just knew. This bird was important, very important to him. It was here to help him. Stiles slowly reached for the bird and it flew to rest upon his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. Stiles stumbled slightly as he began to stand up in the slippery mud, jumping slightly when his small companion left his shoulder to glide to his neighboring gravestone. his eye went wide as he read the name. "No...no..."

 **Scott Mccall**

His companion then hopped to the next grave, and the next grave. Stiles could only follow, reading names as he went.

 **Kira Yukimura**

"Please." His voice was barely audible through the heavy rain.

 **Allison Argent**

"This can't be real." Stiles muttered as lighting boomed in the night sky, it's flash of light revealed the rest of the names for a few seconds but Stiles still saw them.

 **Issac Lahey**

"Oh god, please no!" He said in a panic he tried not to slip in the wet mud.

 **Derek Hale**

They were dead. All his friends, were dead. But he was just with them. He saw them and...and...

"Oh shit." Stiles said in shock as looked back over to his own grave, the only grave with a massive messy hole from when he came dug himself out. It dawned on him that it wasn't just his friends that were dead, but himself as well. He had seen his mother, and he had the distinct feeling that it was real. But if he was dead than how was he...? Stiles was startled when the crow he was following landed back on his shoulder. That feeling was back, and he knew without thinking. This bird had somehow brought him back, but why? There was no feeling this time, no answer.

"Send me back." He pleaded while looking into the bird's eyes. It squawked in response and the feeling returned, it couldn't send him back. There was a reason he was back but he had to figure it out himself. He looked back at the graves couldn't help the small sob that escaped him. He sniffed and shook it off. He had to find out why he was _here_ and not _there_ , and he knew there was one person who had to know what happened to him. He stood up, turned on his heel and broke into a sprint. He had an old friend to visit.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

Deaton was locking up the clinic's medicine cabinet for the night. A job that once belonged to his intern and young friend, he remembered solemnly. He turned the key one final time before placing it inside his coat pocket. As he made his way to the reception desk to place an order for more morphine for his cabinet, a series of insistent knocks pounded on the front door. He eyed the door curiously as the animals in the clinic went silent within seconds of the sound. Deaton could vaguely make out a shivering figure on the door's glass, but he couldn't see the person's face due to the darkness of the night.

"I'm sorry, but we're closed." He called out without taking his eyes off the mysterious figure. "You'll have to come back tomorrow." The knocks resumed with renewed vigor, causing Deaton to reach for the phone to call the police.

"DEATON!" The figure yelled out with a familiar voice that caused the vet to freeze in place before cautiously looking at the door again. It couldn't be, Deaton reasoned internally. Though he couldn't stop himself from walking to the door and warily unlocking it. He opened the door slowly and peered out, his lips parting in shock at what he was seeing. Stiles Stilinski was standing there, rubbing his shoulders and shivering from either the cold or the nervousness that was clearly in the boy's face. A face that had massive bags under the eyes and wore two scars running down his face. A face that used to be dead. He was wearing his funeral suit but it was torn up and muddy. The young man opened his mouth to speak. "Hi." He said weakly, causing Deaton to blink dumbly. "Can I come in?"

"...Of course." The vet said after a moment tense silence. Stiles walked passed him and a crow flew in and landed on his shoulder, causing Deaton's still stunned face to change to a confused one. Deaton found himself leading the boy to the backroom, where he sat him on the examination table and got a blue thick towel to cover the boy's shaking form. The vet was careful while he was near the crow as he placed the towel over Stile's shoulders, but the bird simply jumped onto the boys head and Stiles didn't even react. "Thanks." The young said quietly but sincerely.

Stiles watched as Deaton nodded in reply but noticed the man's eyes were on his companion that had just hopped back onto his shoulder. He saw something akin to realization appear on Deaton's face, but the man remained silent. Stiles supposed he was waiting for him to speak first. "So..." He started but couldn't really find any words to continue. Stiles Stillinski could usually make a joke out of anything, but coming back from the dead after you and your friends were murdered hasn't got much material.

"What do you remember?" Deaton asked softly.

"Not much." Stiles shrugged. "Flashes, images. It's mostly a blur." He answered honestly while trying to remember more, only for a large headache to pulse through his head. Screams echoed in his mind. He could feel extreme heat as if he was near a large fire, then it faded like the images earlier

"I'd imagine so." The vet nodded watching him wince. The surprise and shock from earlier was gone and replaced by that knowing look he always wore when he talked about the supernatural. "I'd also imagine that you are quite confused." Stiles couldn't help but chuckle at that with a small bitter smile, his cheeks straining against the scars on his face.

"Yeah, no shit." His voice turned soft and the smile vanished. "Deaton...what happened to us?" The vet sighed sadly before he began.

"The first thing you should know is that these events happened nearly six months ago." That shocked Stiles, his eyes going wide and stretching his scars so that seemed much longer in length. Deaton struggled not to stare and keep looking in Stiles's eyes.

"S-six months!" He sputtered and nearly lost his balance on the table, the crow had readjusted to the movement with a squawk. "But...It feels like only hours ago!" Deaton raised his hand as a silent request to let him finish and Stiles reluctantly stopped talking.

"As I was saying, six months ago a group of rogue hunters hunted Scott and Derek down." He paused when he thought Stiles would interrupt but after no words from the boy he continued. "They killed them with wolfs bane bullets...but they didn't stop there." His voice took on a more sad tone when he spoke next. "You and the others were there when Scott and Derek were killed."

"We were having a goodbye party for Derek and and his sister." Stiles muttered to himself before he flinched as another flash occured in his mind.

 _"Surprise!" Everyone yelled as Derek and Cora opened the large door of the loft. They stared in stunned silence as the group of teenagers had a large dinner table set up in the middle of the room. Stiles grinned widely as he held a large keg of beer, which never came from him as far anyone else was concerned._

 _"Uh...what's going on here." Cora spoke up._

 _"We're throwing you a goodbye party, what else does it look like, wolfies?" Stiles said as he began to stumble with the keg in his arms. He sent a grateful nod when Scott took it from him with no trouble. "whew, that thing is heavier than it looks!"_

 _"You're...celebrating?" Derek asked slowly._

 _"Of course we're celebrating! You're leavi-OW!" Stiles yelped as Scott lightly slapped the back of his head. The group laughed and even Derek had a half-smile forming._

The scene faded and Stiles grabbed his head with a small groan of pain. Deaton watched silently with a look of sadness and awe."Extraordinary..." He uttered as he began to approach the boy. "I never thought I'd see this with my own eyes." His words caused Stiles to look at him with narrowed eyes.

"See what?"

"One of...well..." Deaton struggled to find the right words before abruptly walking away and leaving the room, a confused Stiles could only watch as he left. The young man waited as he heard the vet moving around in the next room, eyeing the man curiously when he returned with a old worn leather book. Deaton opened the book and searched for a certain page before handing it to Stiles, who looked at the page it was on and saw an old drawing of a crow with an inscription below. The inscription was written with unfamiliar words that were certainly not English. He looked up at the man.

"You know why I'm back." Stiles stated rather then asked.

"Yes, I believe I do." He answered with a nod. "We both know there many legends of whats...on the other side. Some legends mention that when the souls are on they're journey of leaving the earth, they are carried by a crow." Stiles eyed his bird companion on his shoulder at hearing this. "However, and it's very rare but it is possible, that if the soul is carrying great sadness and pain, the crow will bring them back to this world, to right the wrongs that were done to him."

"Right the wrong's." Stiles repeated as he felt the rage he felt at the graveyard return even stronger. Was that why he was brought back? To get vengance on those hunters. As he looked into the eyes of the crow the strange feeling appeared and he knew that was the answer.

"Yes. Right the wrongs." Deaton affirmed as he eyed the two.

"Uh-how is my dad? and Lydia?" He asked hesitantly not knowing if he wanted to know.

"Your father is...it took a toll on everyone. Scott's mother moved away after two months, L.A I heard. She comes back every couple weeks to visit your graves. As for Lydia, she hasn't left home, but I think she's trying to get back into school next year." Deaton explained while the resurrected young man in front of him took in the information. Stiles was sad to hear that Melissa had left but he understood why. And he was happy to hear that Lydia was trying to get her life back together.

"What about my dad?" He asked again. Deaton was reluctant to continue but he knew Stiles would find out eventually

"He's coping in his own way." The vet sighed. "The sheriff is lot more tough on everyone at the station, spends most nights looking through old case files, including your murder." At stiles's questioning eyes, Deaton shrugged." After everything happened, I figured I owed it to all of you to keep an eye out for your parents."

"Thanks." he said looking at the floor. A silence filled the room and Stiles began to think of ways to find the people responsable and a thought struck him. "Is Chris Argent still in town?" Deaton looked at him in surprise but soon answered, knowing what the young man was thinking.

"Yes, he rarely leaves the house." Stiles looked at the vet in the eyes and Deaton couldn't make out the look in the boy's eyes.

"Then I have my second stop." He said lowly.

"Wait, whats your first?" The vet asked with a confused frown.

"I need to get some things first." He said cryptically before standing up and making for the back door. Deaton called out to him quickly.

"Wait, you can't die." He said and Stiles turned to him with a frown. "The crow allows you survive any mortal wound. Gunshots, stab wounds and even falling from a tall building will not harm you, no matter the height." Stiles looked down at himself before looking back up.

"Good to know." Was all he said before leaving the building. The vet could only watch as the door closed before whispering into the night.

"Good luck, Stiles."

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

Stiles stuck to the shadows of the street as he neared his house, grateful that the rain had stopped. He walked up to the door silently and almost reached for a key in his pocket on instinct. Instead he slowly peered into the window and grew sad at what he saw. His father was at his desk looking through files, a nearly empty bottle of whisky to the side and some kind of burger on the other. He had dark circles under his eyes similar to Stiles but the eyes themselves were red, whether from the drink or from lack of sleep, Stiles didn't know. He looked more closely before seeing the bowl full of keys on the desk. The bowl also held the keys to his jeep. He watched as his father finished off the bottle and getting up to go to the kitchen. Seeing this as a chance he bent down and got the spare key from under the welcome mat.

Stiles waited until he heard the kitchen sink's water came on before silently unlocking the front door and entering the house. He didn't wait around before quietly passing the kitchen as his father's back was turned, not making a sound as he went up the stairs. He approached his bedroom door and exhaled nervously before opening the door. the first thing he noticed was the state of the room had not changed since he last saw it. The floor was covered in papers from when the sacrifices were happening. The second thing he noticed, and this was the important thing, was that his drawer was closed and most likely still had some semi-fresh clothes.

He walked over and began to take off his muddy funeral attire. He then took out a black shirt, a pair of dark jeans and some black socks with black boots. Stiles figured he should dress for darkness, as it would be easier to conceal himself from anyone he had to hide from. Now that he had changed his clothes he made his way out the room, leaving his previous muddy clothes on the floor of his room. As Stiles neared the stairs he could still hear his father walking around, it sounded like he was in the living room this time, and the TV as on. He crept down the steps and looked at his father sitting in a chair with a sad frown. This could be the last time he saw him. He took a few silent steps toward him with hand held out.

A few more inches and his hand would be on his dad's shoulder. He was so close. A sudden thought struck him and he paused. His dad was already mourning, what would he be like if saw him alive and had to say goodbye again. _It would destroy him_. He slowly retracted his hand and sneaked over to his fathers desk, where the burger was still residing next to his keys. Stiles looked over to the kitchen and spotted the fruit bowl, and with a sad smile he sneaked passed his dad and grabbed a red apple from the bowl. He grabbed the burger and replaced it with the apple before grabbing the keys to the jeep. They made a slight jingle and Stiles's eye snapped to his dad in the chair, who thankfully didn't hear it. With that done he made his way back to the front door, Keys and burger in hand, and opened the door without any noise.

However he threw the burger across the room and into the small garbage bin next to the television, causing his father to jump in surprise. Stiles was out of the house before his dad could even turn around. He ran to the jeep and got inside just as his father realized that someone was in his home. The key had turned and the engine came to life and just as Sheriff Stilinski ran out the house, the jeep had sped out of the street.

Stiles looked into the rear view mirror and guilt crept into his chest as he saw his father running down the street after him. He didn't even know it was his own son that stole the jeep. Stiles shook it quickly, knowing that he had things to do. He felt his connection to the crow as it flew above him, watching over him as he drove through the streets of Beacon Hills.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

The house's lights were all off, the only source of light came from the large fireplace. It's burning flames illuminating the face of Chris Argent, who sitting down on the couch while glaring into the fire. Stiles watched from the shadows unseen and pondered if the man was involved with the murder, but he quickly dismissed the idea as he knew that Chris Argent wouldn't be a part of a murder innocent kids, especially if his daughter was one of them. Stiles barely made a step forward and Chris was standing up and pointing gun in his direction.

"Who are you and what do you want?" The man spoke without emotion and his eyes were cold and lifeless. Due to the shadows Stiles's face was still hidden and he internally thought of how this talk would go.

"What I want, is what's right." Stiles spoke lowly while taking another step forward. The gun in Chris's hand cocked but Stiles moved undeterred. "And who I am," Stiles stepped into the light, his scarred face revealed to Allison's father. "Is someone who can make it right." The crow flew from the shadows and perched itself on the mantle above the fireplace.

"Stiles..." Chris's face was stunned and the gun lowered until it fell from his hand and onto the wooden floor. "How...?" He started but Stiles interrupted.

"It doesn't matter, I need information." He spoke quickly and to the point, hoping that speaking like how the Argent did he would get better results, instead Chris just kept talking.

"You died...I saw your...I saw all of you." His eyes looked haunted as he spoke.

"I was dead. Now I'm back, and I'm coming for the hunters that killed us!" Chris seemed to snap out his memories and glared at the words. He pointed at Stiles with a shaking finger.

"You think I was a part of that!?" He spat out angrily but Stiles hardly reacted.

"No, but you have contacts." He spoke quickly. "You must have tried to find the people who did it, I want to know if you found anything." Chris looked down in anger at the words.

"I know one of the people who were involved," He spoke lowly. "But you wouldn't believe me if I gave you a name, the person was supposed to have died last year." Stiles looked at Chris flatly, his sarcasm coming back from the dead as well.

"Well there seems to be a lot of that going around, so I think I'll believe it." Chris stared at him, well more like stared at his scars for a few moments before spoke again.

"Kate." He bit out.

Stiles blinked and his lips parted in surprise at the name. "Kate?" Chris nodded. "Kate? as in 'throat ripped out by crazy Peter Hale' Kate?"

"Yes." Stiles was in stunned silence before he shook his head and got back to business.

"Do you know where she is?"

"...No." Came the frustrated reply. Stile clenched his jaw in anger. "What else do you remember about that night? what were the killers wearing?" Chris looked desperate for anything Stiles would say.

"One of them was wearing a necklace, it had what I'm assuming was werewolf teeth attached to it. That's it." Stiles sighed knowing it wasn't much to on. There had to be hundreds of hunters who did that kind of that thing. He looked at Chris Argent and was intrigued when he saw a thoughtful frown on the man's face.

"I might know who that is."

"Who is he? What's his name?" Stiles asked frantically, a morbid hope forming inside himself.

"I don't know his name but I know he's still in California." That was something at least, Stiles thought. "Last I heard he was hunting near...uh...damn it I don't remember the name! Sunny-something!"

"That'll be enough to start." Stiles grinned darkly.

"Let's go then." Chris said making his way to the garage, wiping the the grin completely of Stiles's face. The young man followed him into the garage.

"No, I'm going alone!" Stiles spoke heatedly as Chris began loading up guns into the back of his truck.

"They murdered my daughter!" The man yelled back.

"AND THEY MURDERED ME!" Stiles bellowed shocking Chris into silence. "They made me watch as they killed them! They did THIS to me!" He pointed at his own face. "If anyone is killing them, IT'S ME!" He breathed angrily as he glared. Chris stared silently before nodding, however he did go grab a piece of paper and a pen from a small bag in the truck and wrote onto it with frantic speed. He then gave the paper to Stiles who looked curiously at the digits written down. He looked up at Argent as he spoke.

"When you find Kate, I want to be there. I can at least have that!" Chris stated strongly as Stiles pocketed the paper into his jeans. The young man nodded in agreement and went over to the garage door, opening it and making his way to his jeep that was parked in front of the house. He spotted his companion perched upon the hood of the vehicle and silently willed the crow to take of into the air, ready to guide him in search for the man with the tooth necklace. "Wait!" Chris called out as he opened the Jeep's door. Stiles turned to see the older man holding a large black trench coat in his arms. "Here, it gets cold out." Was all he said before going back inside the garage. He nodded his goodbye and closed the door, leaving Stiles to slowly put on the coat. It's sleeves went past his hands so he folded them to his wrists. And the back of the coat was long and reached just above his ankles.

He shifted slightly but was comfortable enough. Stiles got into the jeep and started the engine and drove away from Argent's home, relying on his connection to the crow to lead him in the right direction on the roads. He made a turn to go towards the road out of town and followed the path for ten minutes. The car was silent for the whole ride, the only words uttered were when Stiles spotted the 'You are now leaving Beacon Hills' sign and he simply said four words.

"I'll be back soon."

 **2nd AN: So, what did you think? Remember this is a one-shot only but if I get some positive feedback, I will seriously consider trying to write a full story for this. And for those who got the crossover hint, (Cause that was REAL SUBTLE) What do think of that concept? And is there any fandom that you think would provide a cool Crow story?  
**

 **Until the next time!**


End file.
